


Queen Thrushkin

by Toyabear



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, König Drosselbart | King Thrushbeard (Fairy Tale)
Genre: Big girls are still cool, F/M, I like Millicent Bulstrode, I like fairytales, So I was bored, okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:08:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23366710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toyabear/pseuds/Toyabear
Summary: Spoiled Princes, Irate Fathers, and Queens in disguise...oh my! This is a retelling of King Thrushbeard--Dramillie, a personal fave, fairytale wise. I hope you enjoy
Relationships: Millicent Bulstrode/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 4
Kudos: 4





	Queen Thrushkin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mizgardenia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mizgardenia/gifts), [quirkycurlygirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/quirkycurlygirl/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The Witch Queen and her King Grizzlybeard](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/574732) by Six2VII. 



> Disclaimer-Plot belongs to the brothers Grimm, characters belong to JK Rowling. The decision to put them together this way was all mine. I hope you like it. But I'm okay either way.

“Draco, it’s time you took a bride. I’m not getting any younger you know, and as the heir…” Lucius began at breakfast. Draco rolled his eyes. This was a constant subject of his father’s ever since he reached his twenties. He wanted to do more...to be more than just the heir of the small but lucrative Malfoy kingdom but his father was unwilling to hand over the reigns. So in response, Draco refused to get married. He thought it was a pretty standard rebellion but his mother didn’t approve... as seen by the tightening of her lips. She wanted her men to get along but they were both very stubborn.

Lucius abruptly stopped speaking, his lips curling into a sneer. The stupid little upstart wasn’t even listening this time. Time to break out the big wands. He pounded the table. “Draco! You will choose a bride from this list, or so help me the next woman that walks into this manor will be your wife.” he blustered. Narcissa was fuming. Why did men have to be so pigheaded?

“Darling, she began, don’t you think you’re being a little hasty…” It was the worst thing she could have said. “No! My word is law. The next creature or being that walks through that door will be given to my son in Holy Matrimony. We have said it.” Narcissa paled. Draco blanched. Lucius fumed. “Now, if my family, “he sneered, “will excuse me: I have work to do.” So saying, he got up and shut himself off in the office. Draco waited on tenterhooks the whole day but nobody came. Actually there were no visitors, courtiers, or any other persons present for the rest of the week, the month or even the year. And life slowly came back to normal.

Until one day… a young woman in a dowdy dress showed up. The servants didn’t know what to make of her. She was bigger than the average woman standing tall at six feet, but her build was hard to determine as the dress she wore was ill-fitting and seemed more fit for the rag pile than on a body. Her hair was long and matted down, her face plain and without adornment. All in all she was unimpressive. A nobody at best. However, her stride was straight and true as she casually made her way to the throne room. Draco laughed out loud at her appearance. “Ha! She looks like a little thrush bird with her brown hair and spotty dress!” The woman frowned at his outburst and the king and queen looked embarrassed. Lucius then got a cunning expression on his face. “Well son, that’s a terrible thing to say to your betrothed.” The hall went completely silent. The king got up and asked for the lady to introduce herself.

“Your majesties, I am an envoy of the Queen...Thrushkin. She has asked for your son’s hand in marriage.” Draco, standing at attention behind his father’s throne felt himself get lightheaded. He swooned stumbling into his mother’s chair. Narcissa on her part was shocked, this ill-unkempt woman bearing the next Malfoy was not to be born and yet...something felt slightly off about the whole situation, she narrowed her gaze. Was that...yes! It was. The young lady was hiding behind a glamour. A good one but if you concentrated you could see the small wisps that spoke of a different reality. Narcissa resolved to keep mum about it. Maybe...there was some salvation for her family here that she couldn’t yet see. Lucius wasn’t entirely sure about this woman or her so called queen. But he was a wizard and a king of his word. His son would marry the chit.

There was a hasty ceremony with the king acting as binder and the envoy standing in for Queen Thrushkin and then the young prince went to pack as the lady stated she needed to return home now that business was concluded.

As Draco and his father went to prepare for his upcoming departure, his mother took the opportunity to draw the young woman to the side. She told her bluntly that she knew she was hiding something but had resolved to not get in the way of Fate. The girl smiled briefly and didn’t respond. Narcissa sighed, “He may be an arrogant twit but there is good in him. Please don’t punish him too harshly.” The lady turned to Narcissa in surprise, but the queen having spoken her piece, picked up her skirts and left the hall.

Draco made his way back into the hall amid much pomp and circumstance along with several porters stood at the ready with trunks, suitcases, and packs ready to move out and follow the Prince to his new home. The young woman sighed. “This won’t do.” She said quietly. “I know I said that he was to marry my queen, but I cannot in good conscience present such a one to her majesty’s court. Therefore, he will marry me instead.” The Prince blinked in surprise. “One...such as I?” he questioned incredulously. “Yes,” replied the woman firmly. “One such as you: arrogant, unknowing, ill-mannered, and ungrateful.” The Prince reddened. “How dare you!” He shouted. “I’ve never been so insulted-” She cut across him. “All this time I’ve been in your house and you have yet to even ask my name or offered any hospitality towards me. You prepare for a place you’ve never been, but have asked no questions about where we are going or what or even how to pack. You act as if you are the injured party, but you’ve not even offered a farewell to your parents.” She watched him take in her words. The redness f his face deepened as he realized the truth of her statements. He stepped back, embarrassed, muttering, “What shall I take?” She studied him for a long moment taking in his defiant posture and his pride. He was going to be a handful. She stepped closer to him and said, “you will need two pairs of your sturdiest pants, two shirts to go with them and a change of undergarments in a small sack. Anything else you take you will have to carry on your own. Choose wisely.” Bowing to the king and queen she left the hall, stating she would wait outside with their steed.

Draco took his time and decided in the end to take one of his mother’s embroidered handkerchiefs and his father’s old pocket watch. Both were small and easily kept on his person. He packed a big sack full of jackets and silks and included almost as an after thought, the things the girl had requested. When he was finished he met her at the gate after bidding his parents a grudging goodbye. Lucius watched him shoulder his pack and set off for the edge of the estate without a backwards glance. “He hates me,” said the king flatly. Narcissa looked at her husband in surprise. “I’m sure he doesn’t, love.” She tried to sooth. Lucius turned to her, “He will,” he looked at her in despair. “There’s no telling what type of person we’ve just hooked him to. And worst yet, will we ever see him again? This kingdom is his birthright what if he never comes back?” Narcissa clung to her husband seeing him on the verge of a breakdown. “I know he’ll be fine darling. After all he is our son and he has a cunning and sharp mind. His upbringing will see him through I’m sure of it.” They turned and watched the horizon and their son slowly disappearing.

Draco made his way to the gate and by the time he arrived he was regretting allowing his pride to get the best of him as his pack was uncomfortable and his wife was nowhere to be seen. All of a sudden a small horse bounded towards him and on its back was his bride. He realized with a start that he still didn't know her name. Pulling the pack off of his back he sought to rectify that situation.

“How am I to call you?” He asked her, rubbing at muscles that were already aching. “Millicent,” she answered shortly. Her voice softened as she watched him try to discreetly shake off the ache of the pack, “What is your given name, my Prince?” “Draco.” he replied. He tried moving the pack to the horse but Millicent refused to let him, explaining that for one, he hadn’t actually brought a saddle pack so his bag wouldn’t work and two his bag exceeded the weight limit for the horse and its rider. She ended with stating that if he’d brought only what was suggested there wouldn't have been any question of the horse taking them both and his pack. So Draco had to walk. And carry a heavy bag. And the Thrushkin lands were a few days away.

So traveling began, albeit slowly, Draco struggled with his pride and his pack as they left his royal birthright. They slept by the roadside most nights and he tossed and turned; his body aching from the rocks and twigs underneath his bedroll. He grew thinner, his stomach not used to the simple fare that Millicent provided for their suppers. Millicent for her part, said little. She spent most of the day atop the little horse that carried her and their provisions. After stopping for the night, she would take a little bow and a quiver of arrows and track down their supper, clean the meat and cook. Draco never offered to help.

After days of travel they began to encounter rich farmlands with many workers tending to fields of wheat, oats, corn, and other good things. Draco looked around him in awe. The lands were vast. He needed to know who they belonged to. Surely his father would relent and welcome him home if he were able to open trade with a lucrative land owner. “Millicent,” he began slowly. “Do you know who these lands belong to?”

Millicent smirked. “They belong to my lady, Queen Thrushkin.” She replied simply. Draco struggled to hide his disappointment but Millicent read it in his face easily. He didn’t speak for a few days. The farmlands gradually melded into dairy farms with fat cows and fluffy sheep. Draco stared at the idyllic scene, his mind racing. Surely these lands belonged to some baron or other. “Millicent,” he said. “Who do these lands belong to?” Millicent called for a dairy maid to come and answer his inquiry. The dairy maid replied that the lands belonged to her good queen Thrushkin. Draco frowned but said nothing else. After awhile the dairy lands and paddocks melded into a magnificent forest teeming with game. Looking around at the beautiful tableau laid out before him, Draco inquired yet again as to the owner of the lands. Millicent looked over and said, You know what? I am unsure. Let’s ask that hunter over there beyond the bushes.” She called the man over and told him their inquiry. He shared a knowing look with her and turned to the former Prince. “These lands belong to my lady, Queen Thrushkin,” answered the hunter politely. Draco’s face paled at his words. He hung his head low and his countenance turned so severe that Millicent was moved to ask what was the matter. His answer surprised and pleased her. “If only I had been more of the Prince I claimed to be, then I could be married to a wise and lucrative monarch.” And he said nothing else for the rest of their travels.

Soon they arrived to a small hut situated before a great city. Millicent put up the horse in a small stable and started a stew on the wood stove inside. She exchanged her rags for a simple dress and pulled a cloak over her head. “I am required at the castle,” she announced. I’ll be back in the morning. Please watch the stew as it is all we have to eat. Once I report to the queen, I’ll return.” After saying this, she left. Draco was tired, dirty, and hungry. He wished to bathe but upon remembering that he would have to draw his own bath and heat his own water he settled for washing his face from the barrel of rain water outside the hut. He checked on the stew and when he saw that it wasn’t ready decided to take a nap. He slept til morning.

Millicent came back from the palace and regarded her husband’s sleeping face. She took a look at the pot on the stove and saw that it was burnt beyond recognition. Honestly the boy was lucky the hut didn’t burn down while he was sleeping. And she told him so, after shaking him awake.

Draco’s face burned with humiliation. His stomach rumbled with hunger. His wife sent him to the market place with some simple coins and ordered him not to return until he had purchased both a new pot and some oats to make a porridge. How dare she order him about like a common dog! A small voice inside his head reminded him that he was responsible for the lack of both food and pot but Draco ignored the voice. He stomped through the market place wearing his finest jacket and boots. The money bag swinging from his waist. A small raggedy child bumped into him calling out “sorry Mister!” as the little ragamuffin ran away. Cursing his wife, his father, and all that was holy Draco made his way to the stands. He grabbed the items he needed and only then realized that the moneybag was missing, and that he would disappoint his wife. Again.

Millicent only sighed upon his return. She said, “Luckily I went to the kitchens after my audience with the queen, and the cook provided us with this cake as a celebration of sorts for our marriage.” His stomach appeased, and his wife in a forgiving mood, had Draco’s guilt mounting. He mumbled something about being tired from the walk to the markets and headed to bed to sleep.

The next day saw Millicent preparing to return to the castle once more. Draco sat up in bed and admired his wife’s profile as she finished getting ready for the day. Putting her thick dark hair up in a simple braid Millicent turned around to gather the pins to finish the simple style. “Oh good, you’re awake.” And she smiled at Draco. Suddenly he wanted nothing more than to make that expression appear on his wife’s face every day. She finished her hair and gave him instructions for the day. “After the chores are done, please find something to sell, otherwise we’ll have nothing for dinner.” Draco frowned briefly. The only thing he had worth selling were his jackets and his formal boots. But they had to eat. He nodded and Millicent approached him, taking his hands in hers. “Remember to stay towards the middle of the market place. Can you do that?” He shook her hands off and trying to ignore the fact that they felt like silk, and got out of bed, scoffing, “I’m not a simpleton. I’ll remember.” Millicent sighed and gathered her cloak. “Okay, she said simply. “I’ll see you when I get home then.”

Arriving at the marketplace, Draco began scouting for an advantageous spot to sell his wares. He was downhearted at the thought of losing his favorite jackets and his boots but sacrifices would have to be made for the good of his family. A small voice piped up and asked him when did he consider the woman with atrocious fashion sense family but he ruthlessly pushed the thought away. He settled near the rest of the clothing merchants and laid out his wares. A few hours later he’d sold nothing. Noticing that the hawkers on the edge of the crowds were doing a brisk business, Draco moved towards the outskirts determined to succeed for his wife. Unknowingly he ended up on the edge as the crowd began to thin in the afternoon heat. Soon, a group of riders came but the warning shouts from the other sellers were too late. His silk and lace jackets, the leather tooled boots and the belts that he brought from home were ruined by the hooves of the horses thundering through the center of the city.

After all was said and done, he’d sold one thing. His mother’s handkerchief. And even that only fetched a few knuts from the market. Just enough for a couple of hot oatcakes. Deciding it was better than nothing he resolved to stop by a bramble bush and pick a few berries to go with the cakes. Trudging home tired, home sick, and discouraged he made his way up the path and to their little house.

Millicent took her oatcake without a word, and refused the berries stating that he needed to keep his strength up. Over dinner, she informed him that she’d managed to secure him a job at the castle since it was obvious he was no merchant. “After all, the queen’s house is steady pay and we still need to replace the pot that you ruined.” Draco reluctantly agreed to set off first thing. He inquired as to the position that was open and was a bit appalled when she laconically replied that he would technically be a scullery maid.

The next day they awoke at dawn, as the castle was a bit of a ways away, and set off on Millicent’s little horse. She dropped him off at the entrance to the kitchen gardens and promised to swing around for him that night at sunset.

Thus began the hardest months of Draco’s life. He chopped, he gathered, he fetched, he carried. He was run off his feet. But the pay packet he received as his first months’ pay seemed to make it all worth it. It was the first time that he’d ever earned anything under his own power and strength. He made sure to ride into town on his day off and purchase the best cooking pot possible. The smile Millicent wore when he presented the pot to her made his heart pound.

Soon there was an announcement. The Queen was getting married. Draco’s days grew even longer and busier. Worse than that he couldn’t find Millicent after most days ended and wound up walking home alone. The few times he saw his wife were rushed and hurried. And even then she was either preoccupied or seemed to be staring into his very soul. It was very unsettling. Some days he feared that she was contemplating setting him aside for a man of better circumstances. His heart would clench in fear and his stomach would roll at this thought. Other days he thought to their “ceremony” and wondered if she felt cheated. After all there wasn’t a feast or even a special gown for her. Their ceremony consisted of the common prayer for marriage and the simple hand-fasting that his people were fond of. None of the pomp and circumstance that he was due and that most women seemed to want. Maybe she felt cheated. He hadn’t even bought her a token to wear to show his troth. That thought was usually swiftly followed by the one that pointed out that he hadn’t the money to purchase such a trinket. Maybe he would in a few years if he were promoted to the position of footman. He resolved to have it out with her after the wedding. There was too much to do to have such a conversation before then anyway.

The wedding day came, and when the time came for the dancing after dinner, the cook went to Draco personally and congratulated him on a job done well. He also told Draco to be sure to take some of the scraps home for his family. There were dishes there Draco hadn’t seen in a while and some he’d never even heard of. He made sure to fill his pockets and a small linen square with choice bits for Millicent. He could admit now, even if only just to himself...that he loved his wife. And with her he was content. But, one glimpse of the life he left behind couldn’t hurt? He tiptoed through the throngs of people to stand at the edge of the dance floor and watched as the court twirled and danced. He smile wistfully. Turning to leave he saw a tall woman dressed in an elaborate gown and veil standing in his path.

She held her arm out in an invitation to dance. Noticing everyone’s deferment to her, Draco realized that this was the beloved queen of Bulstrode. Whom everyone referred to as Thrushkin. He swallowed hard, and painfully aware of his raggedy state slowly took her hand. The music began and he lost himself in the rhythm and sounds of his childhood. Soon they were twirling faster and faster. The forgotten food began to spill from his pockets and then the music stopped and there was nothing but laughter.

Draco’s face burned. Oh how humiliating!! He wanted to run but the queen had his arm in a tight grip. She took her other hand and reached for her veil. It was his beloved Millicent! Suddenly angry he snatched his arm from her. “Was this all a joke for you!” he demanded. “Did you get a kick out of watching me humiliate myself day in and day out to win your favor?” He backed away slowly shaking his head in bewilderment. Millicent stepped forward, “that wasn’t my intention, love.” Too agitated to recognize the endearment, Draco just looked at his wife, the queen. “Then explain what it was like, because I don’t understand.” Millicent stepped forward and lays a hand lightly on his arm.

“When I met you, you were a vain, spoiled prince with seemingly no redeeming qualities,” she began. “Yes, yes. I was arrogant, unknowing, ill-mannered, and ungrateful. I remember.” He snarls. Unfazed Millicent continues on. “Despite your behavior, I wanted you.” She confessed. “But you needed a reality check in the worst way.” To her surprise, Draco laughed. “This is true,” he smiled. Millicent relaxed as her husband’s anger ebbed away. “Seeing how you were determined to carry on, and how you worked so hard to do your very best to provide for us and to make our house a home, I fell in love with you bit by bit.” She finished, almost shyly. “Chance is a fine thing,” he remarked. Thinking that she was being rejected it was her turn to try and pull away from his grasp. He just held tight and pulled her into his embrace. “I fell in love with you too.” A great cheer went up from the crowd around them. Millicent smiled. “Come husband, let’s celebrate our wedding day!”


End file.
